


Crave the Rose

by thorinsaplusparenting (ibreathethroughwords)



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Nostalgia, Post-BOFA, everyone knew everyone in Ered Luin, i don't know where this came from, you might contract diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/thorinsaplusparenting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the most beautiful being Thorin had ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crave the Rose

He was the most beautiful being Thorin had ever seen.

The shade of brown of his hair and beard were as soft as a child's, the gray shot prematurely through it only serving to make the dwarrow look more dignified and handsome. The braids that held it back from his face were complicated and elaborate, a work of art all on their own. His eyes sparkled like precious gemstones when he was happy and Mahal save Thorin when they darkened in anger, dark and deep like the vast mines beneath the mountain. The nose on his handsome face was large, but not overly so, his body just the right mix between curvy and strongly built.

If he had wanted to, the object of Thorin's deepest affections could manhandle him with ease, no doubt able to kill him with just his pinky. Stories about the most beautiful dwarrow in the city (some argued in the whole of Arda) circulated around Ered Luin. Thorin had no doubt that some of them were true, others, well, not so much. It was said that Dori could rip the ears off an orc just by glaring fiercely at it from a distance. Some said that he had once beat a would-be mugger to death with his own arms (though he had searched the Guards' records and found no evidence to suggest that had happened). Fellow refugees from Erebor said that on the road, he had once strangled an oliphaunt with it's own trunk.

Of his beauty, it was said that the Lady of Lorien had once sent a letter beseeching Dori for beauty advice. Males and females alike fell to their knees wherever he went, begging for the privilege to look upon him for a mere moment. He certainly garnered stares and cat calls. Thorin knew his younger brother Nori had been arrested more than once for injuring one of Dori's less than honorable admirers.

Thorin knew also that Dori was loyal and loving, good with children, brave, and strong. He admired the patience the dwarrow had in dealing with Ori and the ten thousand questions a minute that had been streaming constantly from his mouth in the presence of family since he had first figured out how to ask about the world around him. The lad was curious, determined, and unfailingly polite, all traits Ori had Dori to thank for installing in him - or perhaps they ran in the family. He remembered all too well the day Dwalin had come home laughing hysterically because Nori had slipped and said please and thank you to the guards and utterly ruined his reputation. The last they had heard him say before he escaped was that how could he have _not_ picked up manners, living with Dori as long as he had?

Of all the dwarrows in Ered Luin, Dori was the one Thorin had set his eyes and heart on. He thought of him often, even while in the midst of working at the smithy, ruling his people, or traveling to other villages or kingdoms to negotiate, with leaders, sell his crafts, or request aid. Dori was his One, Thorin was sure of it, and he had no idea what to do about it.

So he kept their relationship strictly platonic and admired him from afar. Every time he tried to speak to Dori privately he either got tongue-tied or interrupted (Ori and Kili were the worst about it, as they wanted to be near their respective favorite adult at all times). They were both very busy with raising and providing for their own families (and Thorin a kingdom's worth of people), and it wasn't until they had regained Erebor, defeated the armies at their doorstop, gotten the place cleaned up, and the basic workings of a government up and running that Thorin really had any time alone with Dori. 

It was just the two of them, Dori having managed to become a favorite advisor to his King. Balin had early retired from their discussions for the night as was his habit, and the two of them were in Thorin's private rooms, trying to figure out what titles they ought to award to which members of Company for their efforts. Their lads were fully grown now, and no longer burst in to interrupt them for stories or piggyback rides every ten minutes. The conversation was easy and lively, the silence between them comfortable. Thorin was quite content to let Dori fuss over him, making sure he had tea, that he ate, that he didn't stay up too late. Sometime over the last several months it had become routine for them to attempt to work after Balin had left and for that to then steadily dissolve into conversation about their lads, or humorous events of the day, or how Bilbo might be doing on his trip back to the Shire. From there, the night ended in companionable silence until Dori ushered Thorin off to sleep, insisting that he was useless as King and impossible to deal with unless he was well-rested. For his part, Thorin always chuckled softly and obeyed, so long as Dori promised to go straight to bed as well.

Over the last week, something had changed. Tonight it was especially noticeable to Thorin. There had been more touching between them, lingering caresses and longing looks. They sat closer than usual, arms and hands frequently brushing as they went through paperwork and discussing the merits of their friends for each title. Some positions had been given early on, such as Nori being given a full pardon and the role of Thorin's Spymaster, or Dwalin being promoted from Thorin's personal guard to Commander of his troops (small, for now, though they were). Balin had retained his position as Chief Council to the King, and had decided with Thorin to groom Dori as his eventual replacement. The rest of the titles Thorin had decided to wait on until Erebor was more on the right side of functional instead of dragon chamber pot. Before their conversation had trailed off they had decided to give Kili a chance to test his diplomacy skills by making him their official ambassador to Dale. Now, though, all was quiet between them, save for the pounding of Thorin's heart and the buzzing of his skin where Dori's shoulder rested against his.

Thorin let himself shift slightly, watching Dori out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction as the King pressed a bit closer. Dori swallowed hard, put down his tea, and turned to look at Thorin.

Though the decades had stolen all the color from his hair, Dori was no less enchanting to Thorin than he had been when the boys were still too young to even learn how to fight. The way the fire and candlelight reflected off Dori left Thorin awestruck and breathless and by the time he had recovered, his hand had already lifted to Dori's cheek. Dori leaned into his touch, turned his head to press a kiss to Thorin's palm.

"How long have you known?" he asked softly.

"Since around the time Gimli learned to walk," Thorin replied, because that wasn't as obsessive-sounding as naming the time down to the decade, year, and month. He desperately did not want to scare Dori off.

A hand rested on his leg, just above the knee. The thumb stroked over the skin there, an idle caress that both relaxed and thrilled Thorin. "You never said anything," Dori murmured. "I didn't figure it out until recently, I thought you hadn't yet."

"We were both busy," Thorin gently reminded him. "And, over time, I became too obsessed with Erebor to be able to give you the proper devotion you deserve. It would not have been fair to you back then."

Dori shifted a little closer to Thorin, a small smile on his face. It made him look positively ethereal in the firelight. "You were thinking of my best interests?" he asked, sounding a little awestruck himself, and Thorin knew it wasn't often that someone worried over Dori's feelings or needs. One didn't mother-hen Mother Dori.

Thorin reached out with his other hand to take Dori's. He looked down at their hands and gave Dori's a squeeze before he met his eyes again. "I could not bear to hurt you over my own faults, especially not when you already had enough to over about."

"No one has ever been concerned about that before," Dori whispered, and Thorin wasn't all that surprised to discover that their lips were quite a bit closer than they had been a moment ago.

"I just wanted you to be happy," he confessed, and closed the distance between them. Dori's lips were soft and warm beneath his own, and he delighted in the shiver he felt go through the other male at the touch. Their lips slid gently, lightly over each other, neither dwarrow pressing the other for more, not yet. Thorin took his time to commit the feel of those lips to memory, to make sure he would be able to easily recall later the texture and heat of the skin beneath his mouth. When they did finally part, it was a mutual thing, and Thorin pressed their foreheads together and stroked the back of Dori's hand with his thumb.

"I am happy," Dori murmured to him. He squeezed Thorin's hand. "With you, like this, and Nori and Ori safe and their futures secure and all of us alive and whole and well. This makes me happy. _You_ make me happy." The younger male pressed a kiss to Thorin's lips again, this time parting his lips for Thorin's tongue. The kiss, though gentle, was much more heated than their first, and it made Thorin's heart race. He shifted his hands to rest on Dori's deliciously tempting hips as Dori's arms wrapped around his neck. Thorin pressed him back into the couch until Dori was lying beneath him. Their kisses grew in passion, their hands grew more bold, and soon enough they had to stumble to the bedroom, sticky and half-dressed, the work of the evening long forgotten in favor of cleaning themselves up and taking their rest in each other's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what happened. I was just working on chapter two of Not in Gold and then the fluff bug attacked and somehow it's two hours later and I'm posting this.


End file.
